2013.07.26 - Meet The Family
Strange city. Van can't help but thing the world around it is stanger still. Surely must be. If New York itself is so vastly changed... Metropolis? Really? Bizarre. He's been following the blips of Stark Tech energy signatures for the better part of the night. So far he's seen an Asgardian God relenting to a SHIELD agent with a gun. He's watched men and women that he's never heard of flying overhead. He won't be distracted. The last blip on the radar happened in this spot here over an hour ago. Taken him this long to get here, what with the constant distractions of Crazy Town USA assaulting his senses. With barely a sound at all, Van hits the rooftop of a tall brownstone, a perfectly executed dismount from a one hundred foot, fifty mile an hour launch. BAM. Landing? Stuck... Lifting two digits to his right temple, he lets it all wash over him. Emergency signals. Blips of information on his HUD in sharp relief against the dark of the night around him. Hell's kitchen was Vorpal's way of relaxing. He was taking it easy, or /trying/ to take it easy, after his release from the hospital. He wasn't ready to go into gritty Gotham yet- especially after Darkwing 'warned' him in such a charming fashion that the Bat didn't like sharing his toys. Hell's Kitchen, although nowhere near as bad as South Gotham, was still a place in need of patrolling. The Cheshire Cat jumped from building to building, his uniform and his coloration making it impossible to blend into the shadows unless he intentionally used his powers to do so... but it was alright. Anyone taking a shot at Vorpal while he jumped around would be hard-pressed to get a clear line of sight as the feline ducked, rolled, jumped and shimmied along the rooftops. At one point, his sensitive ears pick up something that he thinks might be a possible altercation and he drops into a crouch, crawling his way to the very edge of a ledge, looking down towards the street. The moonlight makes him rather visible, especially to anyone with enhanced senses... such as, for example, a fancy suit. Tracking rapid movement just kind of happens. The HUD targets, tracks and locks onto everything. Keeping it all as background information. Little blips. A glow here. A targeting halo there. Van has grown used to it long ago, it's just part of the day to day. The brightly colored, rapidly moving... cat man? Okay, that is new. An eyebrow quirks upward beneath that golden lens and just can't help but watch the man-creature-acrobat bounce and roll. Duck and dive. Dip and drop. When Vorpal sticks his landing and creeps to a ledge, Van shrugs. Might as well see what caught the dudes attention, right? And so he goes. Quiet as a whisper on the approach. The cat's ears are indeed very sensitive. Down in the alley there are several young men, and they seem to be arguing. The argument is turning more heated by the minute, and Vorpal's night vision lets him read the body language of the men... aggressive. Hostile. Possibly armed. He couldn't jump in until something was actually -done-, though. So he stays on the ledge, eyes fixed on the group down there and waiting to see if anyone even reaches for a pocket... A combination of tech and skillz, yo. That's what Van is at his core, really. A vessel for awesomeness. Could he sneak up on Vorpal if put to task? Maybe. Maybe not. He doesn't put it to the test... it's been a long day so far and he's been playing it close to the vest since he got here. That telltale TWIP gives him away. The web line carrying him from point A to point B with an efficience that few would ever get to enjoy... Landing beside Vorpal in a low crouch on the very same ledge, he looks down into the alleyway below. The two men squaring off far down in the depths of Hells Kitchen. "Could be worse. They could be green." He says rather plainly. Vorpal frowns and looks up at the 'thwip. When the red-and-gold form-fitting suit lands next to him, the damnest thing... the cat doesn't even look surprised. Leave it to Patrick to be worried. Keith couldn't fault him, considering that he had just gotten out of the hospital from being a step close to death. If it hadn't been for those potions... So, Vorpal simply smiles at Van and says, "Like the litttle green men at the lake? Yeah, so much for a vacation..." he tilts his head down towards the group "... what's their heartbeats like? Any of them seem ready to jump the gun, so to speak?" "They're getting pretty ramped up but... Wait, what?" Maybe it's because he hasn't slept in a while. Maybe it's because he hasn't eaten in a day or two. Possibly the dimensional shift has played Hell with his mind. -Maybe- he's just going flat out crazy and this is all some form of mental breakdown and he's really strapped to a steel examination table trying to escape the pain of a live disection. Van looks to Vorpal with a sudden snap of his attention to Vorpal. "How do you...?" "Hm, think they might get violent?" The cat looks down intently... and then his ear twitches. He turns around to look at Van with a raised eyebrow. "How do I what? Make spandex look so good?" he chuckles quietly. "You sure you're ok? You still haven't been sleeping full nights, haven't you?" He had insited that Patrick didn't need to stay up watching out for him now that he was feeling better. But he could be stubborn. "They might. Just a fist fight. Nothing to worry about. Low priority conflict." Van continues to stare at Vorpal, eyebrow quirked upward beneath his mask. That metallic, inscrutible visage. Van isn't a dumb man by any stretch. He may not be as tactically minded as Michael or as tech savvy as Patrick but he does know people. It all clicks together rather quickly. He's here for one reason. His brother. His brother has an identical suit. Exact same build. Blue eyes narrow, chin lifts ever so slightly. "What's my name?" It's about as blunt as it gets. BAM. There it is. No easing into it. This is his first solid lead and he swings for the fences. Vorpal looks at Van with a 'really?' look, and then he breaks into a Cheshire grin. "You're Moonchild, childlike empress, and I'm Bastian." He had just watched the Neverending Story with Patrick as part of his ever-going project to introduce him to pop culture. "...Patrick, are you feeling alright?" the cat frowns, looking over at the alley and then back at him. "If you're feeling fuzzy, we can go back to the apartment. I'll even cook..." The expression on the feline fellows face and his initial response do not do much to put him in a state of ease. Interrogation techniques flash across his thoughts in rapidfire succession. His right hand grips the rough edge of their perch, left hand lifting to rest on his uplifted knee. He's about to refuse his claim to the throne when that name is spoken. "Where is Patrick? When was the last time you saw him?" All said with a flat, deadpan demand. Vorpal tenses visibly. The suit... the build... the voice. At first the cat thinks Patrick is trying to be funny. Then he remembers... Patrick doesn't pull pranks. At least... not yet. He's still got him on baby steps with regular jokes. But who else would wear the suit, look like that, sound li--- Yellow-green eyes go wide, and he loses his balance, almost falling over the edge. He recovers and instead falls back to the roof, staring at Van. "Oh my god...." he says, voice showing the strain. "If you're not Patrick, then...." The argument below is growing more heated by the minute. Van doesn't care for it. A back alley brawl really is far, far beneath his pay scale. The way that Vorpal tenses, the revelation hitting him just as it hits Van. Lifting his chin, he stands up slow and easy. No sudden movements. With ease, he peels the mask back from his face and looks down at the interesting feline person before him with that brow still lifted. Expression all too calm given the gravity of the moment. "Van. Tell me where my brother is." It's not exactly a request. While Van might be the more sociable one of the three, he's not exactly feeling festive right this moment. As a trash can clanks and rattles, the fistfight exploding below, Van ignores it completely. Bigger fish to fry and street fights aren't on the menu unless lasers and enchanted battle axes start getting swung about. "One moment..." The cat stands up, and suddenly it's not the cat. It's The Batman as he casts an illusion on himself, and stands up on the ledge in full view. " If you punks know what's good for you, you'll go to your homes and not leave. Ever again." The voice carries unnaturally so, echoing below. The young men look up, and it cannot be said that all pairs of underwear remained intact. But what is certain is that not a single one of them remains by the time Vorpal returns to the roof and lets the illusion fall away from him. He stares at the face that is completely familiar to him under every angle. "...Van... you're Van... is Michael with you as well?" he says, turning around to look, but finding nobody. Or at least, nobody visible. He looks over to Van again. "Patrick was home when I left him. I'm his..." he pauses. Van has no idea what The Batman is. How would he? He does, however, know a strange superhuman power when it's flexed. Taking a step back, he tenses ever so slightly. A fist clenches. Prepared to defend himself with an all-out assault if need be. "I'm Van. Red Team Two. Red Team One is... " Van pauses, brows furrowing at this man who seems to know quite a fair deal. He definitely knows Patrick, that much is certain. So he rolls with it. "Michael couldn't make the jump. Not enough power. Window was too small. Pushed me through." Blink. A dumbfounded, confused blink at that. "You're his what?" The young feline notices Van's defensive reaction, and he raises his hands in a gesture of appeasement, "Please... I'm not going to attack you." He had come looking for Patrick. Apparently they had already been looking for him all this time and trying to cross the dimensions. And a little voice went off in his head ~They've come to take him away.~ He could lie. He could tell Van something to lead him in the wrong direction, and Patrick would not have to know. Curse his conscience. He couldn't lie to Patrick, and he couldn't lie to Van. Van was his family, and he knew how much Patrick missed being among his brothers. The purple cat walks over to a ventilation structure and sits down slowly and speaks slowly and steadily. "I am Patrick's boyfriend... I guess that should be 'was' ... now that there's a way for him to go back home." Those dark blue eyes narrow ever so slightly. Suspicious? Wary. No matter how relaxed or amiable he may be at times, he's always on that edge between action and reaction. Still, he does relax. Punching Vorpal in the throat would be excessively rude. Watching him walk away from the ledge, Van spares one glance downward. No a person in sight. Huh. Guess pointy ears and capes are a deal breaker around here. "Patricks... boyfriend?" He rolls that over in his head. Van opens his mouth. Closes it. Tries again and finally just pushes that long hair back from his face with both hands. "I didn't know he was... Not that there's anything wrong with... I mean, we can...? Not you and me, I just met you and... that's not what I..." Waving his hands rapidly, the usually smooth superspy of the trio tries it again. Van plants both hands on his hips and furrows his brows. "Getting here is one thing. Getting back is entirely different. What's your name?" Apparently, Vorpal's superpower is to make people go Seinfeld on him. "My name is Keith. Keith O'Neil, Van. Your brother and I met while preventing a kidnapping. We've been together since then." He smirks a little at Van's momentary flail, though. "Alright then. No offense, I just... you know, never considered us really, you know. Connecting with people. At all. Ever." Van sweeps that crimson metal coated hand back through his hair, leaves it at the back of his neck and smirks ever so slightly. For all their similarities, the mannerisms are most definitely different. "Keith. How is Patrick?" The cat takes stock of the mannerisms and smirks a little to himself. Patrick kept talking about how he was a disposable copy, not a real person. But Keith had always suspected that the brothers were different... they had to be, even if they all shared the same traits. Score one for the cat patrol. "Tired and sleepy right now. But you're asking in general." He looks at the brother, "... I'm not going to lie to you- he's been very, very lonely since he came here. He misses you and your brother terribly and has tried to find a way back. He and I found each other because we were both just as lonely... he, a clone from another world, and I... a freak." He crosses his legs under him. "... he's starting to open up. I'm trying to get him to learn to enjoy things in life, find interests, relax a little. I know I'm not his family, but I've tried to make life as good for him as I can. He's the most important person in my life. He's also becoming a hero here." Which left... ".. and now you're here. Which means you -must- come by and see him..." a pause. "Where are you living? How long ago did you arrive?" "It's been hard on all of us. Seperation wasn't part of the plan but we're survivors. We get by." Van chuckles and shakes his head. Reaching back with both hands, he pulls that mask over his head. He always did feel more comfortable with it on. Being Van is one thing, being Red Team Two is what he was made for. Crossing both arms over his chest, he shakes his head. "How -you- became the weird one in that team, I don't even know. Look, he's always been a little broody. It's how he is. Michael is bossy, Patrick is broody. Water is wet. News at eleven. Seems he's adjusting though. Looking forward to seeing him again. It's been too long." Uncrossing his arms, Van walks back toward the ledge and looks down speculatively. "Been here ten hours or so? Everything is weird. Don't have a place. I'll get by though. Did five days in a Latvarian prison once before my brothers snuck me out. This? Eh. I'll get by." "Then I think you might want to move into the apartment. At least until you find something near and are on your feet... Patrick's going to need you, Van. Now more than ever." A breath, and Keith speaks again, "There's no easy way to say this, so I'll just out and say it..." which was what Broody Patrick didn't do to him. He'd be in the doghouse for a while, if it were anything else. "Patrick thinks that he's got... clone collapse syndrome." Just like that, he drops the bomb. But then quickly adds, "Before you say anything... I was at the Baxter Building earlier today, and Doctor Richards has agreed to help. Apparently he has done research, and helped someone going through it... I'm supposed to bring Patrick tomorrow for exams." That had been a heck of a ballsy move, too. He had met Sue by chance on a mission with Superman. He was a minor-leaguer, and yet he seemed to have a knack for crossing paths with all sorts of people. He had gone to the Baxter Building to beg for help, and had been bowled over by how readily Richards had given it. "You know... Patrick broke up with me because he didn't want me to see the outcome... when he told me, I could have killed him." He says, rubbing at his eyes for a moment but then tossing it a side with a toss of his head. "... I told him we'd fight it." If his expression changes beneath that mask, it's impossible to tell. Van remains unmoving for the time being. Listening to Keith lay it all out the way he does, he can do nothing but just take it all in and mull it over as the catman talks. When he finally does speak up, it's straight to the point. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't need him too. Lead the way, Keith. It's been too long since me and my brother were in the same room, let alone the same dimension." Stepping back onto the ledge once more, he looks out to the grimey expanse that is Hells Kitchen. Atleast this part of the city looks familiar. "I'll go with you for the exams. They'll need a control sample." "Thank you, Van... and I think Dr. Richards will appreciate having a control sample. After he's done geeking out that there's two of you... you should have seen what he acted like when I first met him." The cat gets off the ventilation duct and looks at the skyline. "Our apartment is in South Gotham. It's a little bit of a ways, but we can make good time. Also, when we get there? Don't come in with me, wait outside for a bit until I call you. It may be silly, but I like the idea of a surprise." With that, Vorpal goes to the ledge and looks over his shoulder, ready to jump. "Ready?" Category:Log